


Historical Reference

by Opalgirl



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-14
Updated: 2010-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:43:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opalgirl/pseuds/Opalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The confused Tortallans ask Myles to try to figure out who this mysterious character called 'the Doctor' is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Historical Reference

“I researched this 'Doctor',” said Myles, stirring his cup of tea idly. “Mentions of him and his box are everywhere, if you look closely.”

 

“How so?” Jonathan asked, releasing Thayet's hand and leaning forward.

 

“Late in the memoirs of King Roger the Third, there is such a mention, sire, as well as in the journal of King Baird the Second. In journals and letters from the time of the Barzun conquest, there are several mentions of him. When the barrier between realms collapsed, there are local accounts of him appearing. In his private journals, but never in the accounts of his battles, Emry of Haryse mentions such a man, but also says he fears others will think him mad. During the last Great War--”

 

“With the Gallans,” Alanna supplied.

 

“During the last Great War against the Gallans, two hundred and forty years ago, in what information survives, there are mentions of this 'Doctor'. Prior to that war there is a very vague mention of such a man and his box simply appearing aboard a navy ship.” Myles shook head. “It makes absolutely no sense -- no mortal lives that long, not by any law of the universe.”

 

Thayet frowned. “I've never heard of such a thing,” she remarked. “How is it even possible?”

 

Myles shrugged. “There is little to explain it, Your Majesty. If one looks closely at the portrait of your great-grandfather's coronation, sire, you can see the box in question – nearly identical to the one that's been described – in the room. Allegedly, although I doubt anyone could swear to it given what occurred that day, the box and the Doctor also appeared during your coronation, sire, just before the earthquake caused by the Dominion Jewel. As I heard it, the Doctor as he appeared then, was a very old man, nothing at all like the one you saw.”

 

 “Might it be a title, then? Passed from father to son?” George asked his father-in-law.

 

“I thought that, too. But the different appearances of the Doctor have been seen at the same time, in different places. When the very old man was at His Majesty's coronation, a younger man, calling himself the same, was apparently in Carthak, paying a visit to the old Emperor.”

 

Alanna sat forward, a frown of concentration on her face. “It doesn't make any sense,” she complained. “I _hate_ it when things don't make sense.” She drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair restlessly as she thought. “Simulacra?” she asked.

 

“Unlikely.” Jonathan stroked his beard, a clear sign that he was thinking. “A simulacra is a copy, a double, but as I understand it, to modify the simulacra's appearance – and to keep it looking like that – takes a great deal of strength, as to not break the chain of spells that created it in the first place. For the mage and the simulacra to be any great distance apart breaks the spells, as far as we know.”

 

“Aly and Alan swear up and down that he's no Gift,” George put in. “And he doesn't, not as far as my Sight can tell.”

 

“He'd have to be very good to hide from them,” Alanna added. “He doesn't seem as if he's Gifted, not to me.”

 

Thayet leaned her chin on one hand. “If he's not a mage and if his name isn't a title, what _is_ he?” she asked, looking contemplative. “Have you any idea, Myles?”

 

The old scholar shrugged. “Not in the slightest, Your Majesty. In some remote regions – in Yaman and Jindazhen, and in the far southern part of the Carthaki Empire -- he's apparently revered as a god. In far Scanra and in northern Tusaine, as well as among a few Bazhir tribes, I've been told he's called 'The Oncoming Storm'.”

 

Jonathan clasped a hand over his wife's. “He seems far from dangerous,” he said, mildly.

 

Alanna snorted, derisively. “He sat in the armchair and told the children fairy stories. He's not dangerous.”

 

“Might be, lass. Could be some scheme of his,” George told his wife. “Whatever game he's playing, I can't sort it out.”

 

“According to the tales and accounts, the Doctor is generally benevolent towards humans.” Myles drained his  teacup and sighed. “The Duchess of Naxen – who assured me, quite vehemently that despite her age, her memory is _fine_ – recalls her mother sheltering a world-weary traveller when she was a girl. He slept for several days, then promptly disappeared in the night, although he did leave a note of thanks. The Duchess recalls that the healers did not know what to make of the man, or how to help him – their magic was useless – and that he looked to be utterly exhausted.”

 

Jonathan grinned, his white teeth flashing. “That's Aunt Roanna for you, Myles. Don't even suggest to her that she's getting old.”

 

Thayet's grin matched her husband's. “He's right — do not suggest to Duchess Roanna that she's getting on years and that perhaps she should rest. She finds that rather offensive. When he should next decide to grace us with his presence, I have questions for the Doctor.”

 

“You and me both,” Alanna said, firmly. “I should have asked him more questions when he was afraid of me.”


End file.
